O! Oram!
Mighty orb of mischief, there can only be one.
But thanks to you, none of us will ever again feel like “the only one.”
When the only thing bigger than your body is your heart, you walk in the truth.
If you are Oram, you also stomp, gallop, clog-dance and somersault in the truth.
You are far too alive to believe in lies. Even a fib would make your long, licorice tail twitch.
Scientists might say the white tip of your tail is just a cool gift of genetics, but we know: it’s a flashlight for finding treasure. Big, brave, braggadocious cats know that the truth is always a treasure.
You knew that our volunteers sit upon a throne of salmon just on the other side of the kitchen wall. You knew when a treat bag was not empty. You knew that no one had anywhere better to be than the center of the Quinn’s Corner lobby, with a lap full of the largest land mammal in fifty miles.
(You know that size is a measure of soul, not poundage, although you aspire to outweigh cattle on both measures, and you’re pretty close.)
Most of all, you know that it is never over.
It was not over when a routine blood test delivered one dastardly dot. It was supposed to confirm that you were not infected with feline leukemia virus. Tabby’s Place did not yet have a wonderland for FeLV+ cats. There was theoretically no room at the inn.
But, contrary to cockamamie belief, F-E-L-V does not spell O-V-E-R.
Love has secret passageways. The Kitten Suite was vacant. Your kittenhood was not over, either, despite your being the size of a sport utility vehicle.
You were not doomed. You were just early. You were so thoughtful, you arrived in time to help us plan your coronation. You thought it was adorable that we kept referring to it as the “Quinn’s Corner Grand Opening.” But you knew the truth.
It was not over when the “Quinn’s Corner Grand Opening” was over, even though it was the greatest day of your life since yesterday. Hundreds of people came to see if it was true that Tabby’s Place had a kingly cat with a glow-stick tail and a heart larger than the known and unknown universe.
Hundreds of people came to find out that a dreaded diagnosis is not dreadful when your name is Oram.
Hundreds of people wanted to take you home, but for hundreds of reasons, they did not. You were just glad they came. It was the greatest day of your life. Tomorrow would be better. You knew the truth.
It was not over when you lost the friend you loved as much as your own soul. Tucker was your brother by something better than birth. He was your kindred spirit. You shared heartwarming hand-to-hand combat as co-heavyweight champions of the universe.
You were here together before Quinn’s Corner, and you were here together after your other brother Charles died. You were here together when Sammy decided you were all adorable but not quite her type, which is Paul Rudd, although that is another story for another time.
You and Tucker took the world by storm and took care of each other, until he had to take his light to a distant land. Your big heart broke, and your big Johnny Cash shoulders scrunched very small. If anyone has ever doubted that cats grieve, they should have seen you. We all held our breath and worried that it might be over, but it was not over. You knew the truth.
A heart big enough to break is also big enough to break open. Rooms appear where there were none before.
Yes: love has secret passageways.
O! Oram! We have looked you in the eyes a thousand times. Finally, we know why they are full of pinwheels. You came to Tabby’s Place to tell us that it’s not over for us, either.
We are not as large as you are, so we are afraid of the truth. It is safer to believe that the kitchen is closed, the light is fading, and hope is a foxhole for kits and children. It spares us the pain of waiting, and the fear of looking like a fool if the door stays locked.
But Oram, you taught us that there are as many doors as there are days, and each one is the greatest day of your life.
And today, you begin again. You have been adopted. Your taillight left our driveway, and you turned back with one grand final “wooHOOOOOOOO!”
Tucker and Charles are dancing. They have recruited everyone from Jimmy Carter to the Beastie Boy who died, because every big heart from Earth to Heaven has been pulling for you all along.
Meanwhile, we are wailing like wallabies at Tabby’s Place. We are so slaphappy and slobbery, the UPS man probably thought we were drunk. But it’s only the inebriation of the infatuated.
We are thrilled for you. We are going to miss you terribly. Yet this friendship of ours is never over. O! Oram! Congratulations, darling boy!
We shall let your fabulous new family say the final word, knowing that the best has just begun:
“He is the very best boy. He managed to get into our bed night one and has been an absolutely wonderful bed sleeper every single night! He loves watching the birds out of our sun room and he likes watching his 5 cat brothers and sister and has even started doing the SLIGHTEST snuggle (think a paw touching or a tail touching) with Dudley and Caribou. I’ve also never met a cat who loves a belly rub like he does. Everyday he gets a little more comfortable and he makes us laugh as he starts to show his full personality. We’re in trouble once he fully adjusts! LOL. ”
Thanks to Oram’s amazing family for all of these photos … and for being Oram’s amazing, meant-to-be, worth-the-wait family!